The Fisherman's Daughter

The day had come to say goodbye. Sometimes, Thea felt, that it was as if the fisherman of her family were soldiers and she was seeing them away to war. No one ever knew who would be coming back altogether intact - whether physically or mentally. There was no certainty in any of it. The season could win a fortune, or it could be an absolute flop; it may end with a celebration, or it could end with a funeral.

Either way, the fisherman Thea knew, among countless others, persevered regardless of the outcome. They continued to do so year after year. It was like an addiction - a big, strewn-out, profitable addiction. The addiction of the feeling that came from the aftermath of a long stretch of hard work.

However, out of all the men she knew that had acquired this addiction, there were two who were really in its grasp: her father and Jake. No matter what, they would always come back to their rightful place on the ship in spite of whatever may have happened the previous season.

After only six years working aboard the Sea Siren, Jake was considered a baby in the industry, young blood. But despite that, he had worked harder and more diligently than any other deckhand Thea had ever met. He aspired to be everything her father, Arttu, was - the captain of his own boat. At his pace, it seemed likely that he was going to achieve his goal. It was no surprise to Thea, despite all the familial problems going on back home, that Jake was going to go back out to sea for the season.

She thought back to the night before; she remembered the tears welling up in Jake’s eyes when he had heard that his father’s condition was worsening. Her heart ached for him. She couldn’t imagine the pain he was going through. Just the thought of a similar situation happening with her father choked her up. But still, Jake persevered. After a few long conversations with various members of his family that night, he had decided that working was probably the best thing he could do.

Thinking back to her childhood, she remembered all the time that she and Jake had spent with his father. He had always been an outdoorsman and therefore, they had gone on numerous camping and hiking trips together in their youth. Occasionally, he had taken them out to the shipyard and had shown them around on one of his friend’s ships. Jake’s father had never been a captain, but he had been a deckhand for quite some years. A few years after his family had grown, he soon gave up the career, saying that it was taking his precious time away from them. No matter how much he and his family needed the money, he was not going to risk his life and his life with his family for it.

Thea’s family had been friends with Jake’s father, John, for more years than she had been alive. He had always been around when she and her siblings were children. Her parents and Jake’s parents seemed to always have the utmost respect for each other. John was, after all, an outstanding worker and father. They had grown so close that Thea and her brothers referred to him as “Uncle John,” though he was of no relation.

But he had always had his vices. Thea recalled one specific camping trip, years ago. She and Jake would’ve been about ten years old. The three of them, plus Jake’s mother and Thea’s brothers, had just come back to their campsite from a particularly long hike. Having no water left in her clear, plastic bottle, Thea made a beeline for the nearest liquid, eager to ease her thirst. Without thinking, she had picked up the bottle that had been placed in a chair with the rest of Jake’s father’s things. Hydration was so close, she could almost taste it. But the taste she experienced a moment after placing the bottle to her lips was not one of water. The liquid’s transparency had fooled her and quickly, a burning sensation had overtaken her small mouth. Her eyes began to tingle and water and she immediately spit the foul contents of her mouth onto the ground.

“Uncle John, something is wrong with your water!”

Sprinting over to where Thea stood, the look upon his face read perplexed. The moment he realized what she had in her hand, and what he was missing, his face conveyed nothing but anger.

Stooping down to her level, he grabbed the bottle and grasped her arm tightly. “Don’t you touch that ever again,” he whispered harshly through his teeth, with no less emotion.

Wide-eyed, Thea nodded. She had never seen him like that before and hoped never again to see it. It frightened her immensely.

Noticing her fear, he loosened his grip and began to stroke her hair back. “I’m sorry, Thea, honey. I just don’t want you to get hurt. You see, that’s a drink for grown-ups that kids like you should never drink.”

She nodded again, and noticed the offensive smell of his breath as he spoke. It smelled just like the dreadful liquid.

For the years to come, that smell became a familiarity when she was around him. Now that she was older, she recognized the smell. It was the smell of an alcoholic.